Tempted by a SEAL (5 page)

He was not going to get rid of her that easily. Lydia scrambled for a way to prove to him he was wrong.

“Three point one four one five nine two six five three five nine.” She said the one thing that came to mind.

He cocked up one brow. “If that’s your phone number, I can tell you right now I’m not gonna remember it . . . and I think you had too many numbers in there anyway.”
 

“It’s not my number. It’s pi to the eleventh decimal.”

“Oh.” He looked like he didn’t quite know what to do with that information.

She decided to help him out. “It proves I’m not drunk.”

“No. It proves you memorized it good enough you can spout it out even while drunk.”

Even more determined to prove him wrong now, Lydia drew in a big breath in preparation to launch into her next feat to convince him she was not drunk from one stupid beer. The one thing her seventh grade history teacher had drilled into her brain so firmly it was still there would have to do.

“
We the People of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense
—”

 
“Lydia. Shut up.” His command was rude, though delivered in a soft, gentle tone.

She chose to interpret his cutting her off so sharply as her winning this round and him not being happy about that.

“Why? Do you believe me now?” she asked.

“No.”

She smiled, knowing he was lying. “Then you’d better take me to your place. You know, to give me some of that coffee or food you suggested before.”

“I suggested the diner, not my place. And make no mistake, if I were to take you to my place it wouldn’t be for coffee.”

What did that mean? Was he tempted? Lydia wanted to believe so. Her heart kicked into a higher gear.

She swallowed, steeled her nerve, and said, “Okay. So let’s go.”

A flash of some emotion she couldn’t pinpoint crossed his face. Anger? Frustration?

He spewed out a long run of cusses before drawing in a breath that had his nostrils flaring.

Finally, he glanced at her, looking unhappy as he reached for and grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” She struggled to keep up with him as he tugged her around the hood of her car and onto the sidewalk.

“My place.” He reached for the door of the building directly in front of them.

“You live here? Across the street from the bar?”

“Yup.” With barely a glance back at her when he answered, he led her down a hallway. He paused in front of a door.

Digging in his pocket, he emerged with a set of keys. He unlocked the door and swung it wide, proving he was telling the truth.

His living here was a hell of a coincidence. Though not really, she supposed. Why drive somewhere to get a drink if you lived across the street from a bar?

“That’s convenient.” She stepped inside. He followed and then swung the door closed behind them.

“Yup.” The word was barely out of his mouth before he’d hauled her against his chest and covered her mouth with his.

Lydia didn’t have time to be shocked at his sudden turn around, just as she didn’t have time to worry how many other women he’d scooped up at that conveniently located bar and brought home with him.

All thought fled as he pressed her against the closed door, pinning her between the cold hard wood and his equally hard body. She melted right where she stood, just from the heat of his tongue as it stroked against hers.

Lydia had been kissed before. Of course she had. She wasn’t some virgin.

At least, not anymore—she pushed aside the knowledge that this time last year that wouldn’t have been true.

But in all of her limited experience with men, she’d never felt anything like this with Mack.

The intensity. The raw urgency. The barely controlled passion.

Maybe that was because she’d never been with a man like him.

This felt like more, different from the kisses she’d had from high school and college boys. So different it seemed silly to even think of it as just a kiss.

It was as if his taking possession of her mouth was a warning. A preview of how he was going to take her, possess her, body and soul.

Maybe it was the beer she’d drank, but she was more than willing to let him take anything he wanted.

Groaning, she leaned in closer and ran her hands over the hard planes of his back beneath his shirt. Touching him clothed was so incredible she couldn’t begin to wrap her head around what it would be like when he was naked.

He pulled away from her mouth, and she had to stop herself from chasing his lips to get the kiss back.

“You on any kind of birth control or do I need to run out?” he asked.

Oh, God.
This was really going to happen. His matter of fact inquiry about birth control left no doubt.

Imagining being beneath him, of having him plunging inside her, was one thing. The reality of it was another and had her trembling.

Her heart pounded with equal anxiety and anticipation. Breathless, she managed to form an answer. “I’m on the pill.”

That made her seem more sexually savvy than she really was, but it was true. She was taking birth control pills.

What she couldn’t admit was the other truth—that she’d rushed to the college’s health clinic the day after she’d lost her virginity and put herself on birth control . . . and she hadn’t been touched by a man since.

It was kind of humiliating, getting that new pack of pills each month, taking one each day, and knowing it was all for nothing—until now.

Tonight would make those nine months of waiting to take full advantage of those pills worth it.

She hoped so anyway. That first time had not been all that good. The second time that night with the guy who had been her first had been no better.

The whole encounter had been an awkward, kind of painful, mess. So why was she so anxious to repeat it? Eternal optimism, she supposed.

“Good.” His single word response to her announcement about being on the pill came out in a deep growly timbre.

The sound rumbled through her, cutting straight to her core, making her want him even more while at the same time scaring the hell out of her.

If a skinny college geek had hurt her during her one and only night of having sex, what the hell would a man like Mack do to her?

As he closed in on her again she feared she’d pass out from the intensity of the situation.

In seconds she realized that she shouldn’t have worried about falling down in a dead faint because her feet were no longer on the floor. He’d scooped her up like she weighed next to nothing, when that was far from the truth.

As she clung to his neck with her arms, she gasped. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed.”

Her black outfit was slimming—at least she hoped it hid the latest pounds she’d gained this semester thanks to stress and the new pizza place that delivered—but there was no hiding her weight now he had hefted her up.

She was much too heavy for him to carry her anywhere, even the bedroom. She wanted to tell him she could walk there herself.
 

Lydia was still trying to figure out how to get him to put her down when he angled them both sideways to sidle through the bedroom door.

That’s when he finally put her down. He dropped her with a bounce, sideways across the bed. Lydia was still recovering when he reached over and flipped on the light on the nightstand.

It cast a warm glow over him where he stood nearby and over her on the bed.

She was in the perfect position to watch him strip, which he did without fanfare but damn he didn’t need any.

Just the sight of each piece of newly exposed flesh appearing as the next piece of clothing came off was enough to keep her focus riveted to the scene.

Soon enough he was gloriously naked with nothing between her and him and the evidence of how turned on he was.

Her mouth dry, she swallowed hard and nearly choked in the process.

Her shoes fell to the floor as he slipped them off, one at a time, before kneeling on the mattress.

Straddling her lower legs, he reached for the waistband of her black stretch denim jeans.

They obviously weren’t wasting any time getting down to business.

Her pulse thundered in her ears as her chest rose and fell with the speed of her breathing.

Concentrating on his task, Mack’s eyes remained focused on his hands as he slowly lowered the zipper of her fly.

The pants were tight. He was going to have to wrestle them off her, over her wide hips, down the thighs she hated to see reflected in the mirror.

Her legs looked even worse when she was white and pasty, in her opinion. It had been too long since she’d been in shorts, getting tanned out in the sun on summer break.

Not too mention the imprint of the seams that would no doubt be pressed into her flesh from the tight denim.

She panicked and reached down, hoping he would get off her legs so she could escape into the bathroom and undress herself in private. “I can do it.”

Best case scenario, she could flip off the light so when she came back out to the pitch black bedroom he wouldn’t see her.

Sometimes the dark could be scary. But when naked, it was a comfort. Like a blanket wrapped around her she could hide in.

But short of privacy and darkness, she’d at least like to peel off the too tight pants herself and avoid the embarrassment of him having to do it.

“I got it.” He ignored her hands pushing at his, gripped the waistband of the jeans and yanked.

The pants yielded to the strength of his capable hands, turning inside out, but coming off her with no struggle on his part at all.

Then he was back, reaching for her underwear next. She realized she was shaking as he slipped those down her legs and tossed them to the floor as well.

Reaching for the hem of her shirt, Lydia yanked it over her head. She wanted to pretend she had at least some control of the situation.

She left her bra on. At least it was black lace instead of grandmotherly beige or white. It was pretty for a double-D cup even if it did have a wide back band with four hooks for support.
 

He watched her movements through narrowed eyes. He waited for her to toss the shirt aside before he lowered his body over hers.

She felt his length nudge her entrance as he positioned himself between her thighs.

Right to business. No procrastinating for him. She had a feeling he dove into all things in his life like he was about to dive into her—without hesitation.

Lydia’s mind reeled with chatter as she tried to keep herself calm. She’d already seen that he was big, not that she had much to go by in comparison.

She braced for the first thrust but it didn’t come. At least not as she’d anticipated. He was right there, pressing against her firm and steady, but that was where he remained as he reached down to the juncture of her thighs and spread her with his fingertips.

He connected with a spot that had her gasping, dragging in an open-mouthed breath as her eyes slammed closed.

His hands were as talented as they were large. Mack worked her with a firm but gentle touch.

It soon had her panting and tipping up her hips in search of more.

Lydia’s first time all those months ago hadn’t felt like this. Or the second that night, for that matter.

By the time she realized he’d slid his hard length inside her, she was bucking against him, crying out with each exhale.

He was fully seated inside her when her body tightened, clenching and releasing around his.

Only then did he start to move. He thrust inside her and at that moment she wanted nothing more. She welcomed each plunge of his body into hers gratefully. Eagerly.

He moved hard and fast, rocking them both as well as the bed. Each stroke sent the heavy wooden headboard crashing against the wall.

Finally Mack reached up, gripped and held the top of the headboard with one hand to stop the noise.

The neighbors might have been spared from the banging but they surely heard her cries of pleasure. His too.

To start, she’d barely heard his rapid breathing as he labored above her, but that soon changed. As his strokes quickened, deepened, so did the vocalization of his pleasure.

It built to a crescendo that culminated with a shout as he bottomed out inside her and held deep. She felt him throb inside her as his body shook above.

They were connected, like they were one person. And holy shit, she wasn’t sure she could even call those other two times
sex
after having experienced this with him.

She was still trying to catch her breath and wrap her head around the experience when he slid out of her and rolled to his side.

He was up and out of the bed before she could protest. She missed the connection immediately. Missing the heat of his body on top of hers, she realized the room was cold, made worse by the fact her skin was damp with sweat.